


to the bottom

by marimoes



Series: Promptober 2019 [23]
Category: One Piece
Genre: Alcohol, Dressrosa Arc, Gen, Post-Minion Island, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-23
Updated: 2019-10-23
Packaged: 2020-12-29 01:08:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21146231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marimoes/pseuds/marimoes
Summary: Doflamingo struggles to process Law’s disappearance following the events of Minion Island.





	to the bottom

**Author's Note:**

> Day 23: Bottle
> 
> I know I've skipped a couple but, it's his birthday, and I had to.

Popping the cork of a fresh bottle of wine always seems to relax Doflamingo. That sweet aroma that escapes after the initial sound brings him joy like no other thing in this world. Some might say he’s addicted. 

Those people don’t really speak much after that. 

This bottle is different. Darker red than the others in his collection, and he’s held onto it for a while. Not really because he’s saving it for a “special” occasion, but more so the occasion that calls for it. The label is soft and lavish, from a place far far north that they haven’t ventured to since. 

They snagged it from a house they pillaged, one of not so meager possessions, and he’s kept it. Waiting patiently until the day that it needed to be opened, and he often imagined what the scenario could possibly be. 

Maybe when he became king? Maybe it was because Rosinante spoke again? Maybe he finally got to lay a hand on another Celestial? But no, the bottle was opened, and it was for none of those things. 

It tips back to the ceiling, sloshing loud in his ears like the ocean itself as it rushes over his bright red lips. The cold has kissed them beyond salvage and the alcohol burns where the skin is broken._ Broken_. 

Doflamingo sinks deeper into his chair, and he’s not entirely sure when he even sat down. The world has been dizzy and blurred for hours now. A muddle of colors ever since he turned away from his brother, leaving another member of his family dead by the same smoking chamber. 

That didn’t matter though. He was a traitor, and betrayed him just as their father had, all those years ago. A _marine_. Of all things in this life that Rosinante could have become he decided to do that, come crawling back, and then _betray_ him. 

And all before that, he committed something Doflamingo didn’t even consider a crime until now. Now, when he’s sat with his prize tipped up on his lips and the excess spills from his mouth like the tears from his eyes. An act so heinous, he can only seek relief within the bottle in his hand. 

Taking Law. 

Law. That poor, small boy, no doubt dead somewhere else on that godforsaken island they’ve departed from. They thought that the marines took him, but no, he wasn’t with them. It was some other child that got brought in. 

He’ll have to get Baby some goggles if she’s going to be up that high, they can’t afford mistakes like this. 

So, where was he? He wasn’t alongside that monster of a brother that took him away, so where did he go? His ivory patched skin might have blended with the snow around him, as he likely struggled to take his last—_no. _

_No._

_No. No. No. _

Doflamingo gulps harder and can start to feel his heartbeat in his throat. A heavy pulse; full of fear, full of sadness. They were supposed to procure the fruit that could’ve saved him! It could’ve all been fixed if not for Rosinante and his interference. 

He could’ve lived. 

He could’ve been something the world had never seen. 

Doflamingo is certain, had he been given the chance, Law would’ve turned this world on its head. The abandoned idea alone brings a chill to him now, straight down his back like the ice outside, and his chest tightens. In his mind’s eye he can still see him: small, body covered in splotchy skin, fire heavy in his eyes and—

_Waiting to die._

Doflamingo chokes on the wine at that thought, sputtering out onto the floor in front of him, and his first concern isn’t that he can’t catch his breath. It’s the book he’s managed to spit on in the process. A medical book. 

All the while that Rosinante had Law taken away “trying to find a cure”, he was actually researching one. Spending his nights pouring over numerous books that he had brought in by courier, and when Law finally returned, he planned on telling him what he found. After all, the boy was rather bright with medical knowledge. 

Again, the pain of his place in the family twists in Doflamingo’s heart and before he can blink the book is thrown across the room. It hits the far wall with a slam and as the pages settle, Doflamingo shakes. Near violent, his shoulders knock against the back of the chair—and he cries. 

Tears spill from beneath his rose-colored glasses, and with a quick hand he flings those too. They shatter against the wall alongside the book and the reflection of the words amongst the shards of glass is too much.

Looking around, Doflamingo blinks at the room. The world is duller without them. A different hue than the one he’s lived in for so long. It’s no longer pink and rosy; no, it’s cold. Has the world always been this cold? 

The only warmth inside the room seems to be from the alcohol in his stomach, but he feels it fading, slowly, and his head swims. He wants to stay warm, and the coat on his shoulders only succeeds in mocking him, taunting him, of its matching pair that is buried beneath the snow. 

So, he needs more. 

He eyes that prized elixir that sits on the windowsill, still calling to him with its color. That rich, deep red that almost looks like all the blood he spilt over the years. _Blood_. If Law died, was he at least spared of it? Was he whole when he returned to the earth beneath him? 

Doflamingo closes his eyes picking up the bottle and nearly shatters it in his hand. 

It groans in his hold, begging to break, but instead it’s upturned against his lips, and the edge clicks against his teeth as he pushes it too far. He doesn’t want to think! He doesn’t want to breathe! He just wants answers, and the one he seeks might be at the bottom of the bottle he waited so long to open. 

The bottle that always posed a question just might hold an answer, and there is one way to find out. 

**Author's Note:**

> Yell about the Donquixote family with me!!
> 
> Tumblr: @noswordstyle  
Twitter: @__moes__


End file.
